


fragile facade

by comehomenezumi



Category: NG (Visual Novel)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Pining Seiji, Post-Canon, spoilers for the good end and seiji's normal end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:15:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21548959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/comehomenezumi/pseuds/comehomenezumi
Summary: I keep having the same dream, over and over again. Every night, you die, and I'm the one who kills you.After Kakuya's defeat, the same recurring dream plagues Seiji night after night. Having been taught that weakness isn't acceptable in his line of work, he suffers in silence until it becomes too much for even him to handle alone. Frantic and scared, Seiji longs for someone to keep the bad dreams at bay, even if it means crossing the boundary he has so carefully built up.
Relationships: Amanome Seiji/Kijima Akira
Comments: 10
Kudos: 104





	fragile facade

Seiji woke up gasping for air. His heart pounded recklessly against his ribcage. A thin sheen of sweat coated his back and chest, and his hair clung to his forehead. He tasted blood in his mouth, and nausea coiled in his stomach.

Frantically, Seiji climbed out of his bed and sprinted to the bathroom across the hall, stumbling over his own feet and all but crashing into the toilet as he dry heaved. His eyes stung as tears formed and rolled down his cheeks.

His entire body shook. As the heir of the Amanome family, Seiji Amanome had seamlessly threatened, manipulated, and crushed the people standing in his way. Yet here he was, hunched over a toilet in tears because of a dream that he’d already seen dozens of times. If any of the underlings saw him, they’d laugh.

Shakily, Seiji rose from the floor, bracing himself against the counter top. His knees ached from his impact with the floor. He dared to look at his reflection in the mirror. Tired, bloodshot eyes stared back. No amount of makeup would be able to cover the dark bags under his eyes.

The nightmares started two weeks ago. They were bearable at first. During the first few nights, Seiji couldn’t remember what it was that he dreamed about. He could only remember glimpses here and there, but he would wake up in a cold sweat nonetheless. Back then, he was at least able to fall asleep again afterwards, his conscious drifting into nothingness. However, the dream became more and more vivid with each passing night. If he managed to fall back asleep, the same dream would crawl to the surface from the depths of his mind.

After many restless nights, he felt so unbelievably tired.

In the following days, he memorized every detail of the dream in its entirety. He didn’t have to be asleep anymore for it to haunt him. The image of Akira Kijima’s bloody, mangled corpse was burned into the back of his mind. No matter how hard Seiji scrubbed at his hands, the feeling of blood couldn’t be washed away.

Seiji clenched his eyes shut and took a deep breath, steadying himself. In his dream, Seiji was nothing short of a monster. His cruel, demonic eyes filled with delight as his crooked mouth full of razor sharp teeth sinks into flesh, tearing his prey apart limb from limb. But, beneath the grotesque exterior, it was still undeniably him. Seiji exhaled, taking one last look at his reflection before exiting the bathroom and creeping back to his bedroom.

He stood at the edge of his bed, looking down. His sheets were untucked due to his twisting and turning, and he’d thrown his blanket halfway across the room in his panic. He sighed. He’d just ask the maid to fix them in the morning. It wasn’t like he was planning on going back to sleep. 

Seiji retrieved his phone off of his bedside table and gingerly sat on his mattress. He squinted against the glare of his screen. His finger hovered over Akira’s name.

The first time Seiji woke up from his dream and realized that it had been Akira’s blood staining his hands and leaving the bitter taste in his mouth, he panicked. Seiji called his friend in a frenzy, dazed and unable to tell apart the dream world and the real world. His heart rate quickened with each ring. When he got sent to voicemail, Seiji thought his heart might truly fly out of his chest. He called again, hands shaking uncontrollably, and Akira finally picked up on the third ring. “What are you calling me so late for?” Akira huffed through the speaker.

Hearing his voice, Seiji wanted to sob in relief. He hadn’t killed his best friend. He wasn’t a monster. “Oh, good, you’re still up,” Seiji commented, masking the shakiness of his voice with nonchalance. Just hearing that Akira was fine was enough. He’d tell Akira about the dream another day.

“I wasn’t. Was me not picking up the first time not a big enough hint?” Seiji could tell that Akira was annoyed by the tone of his voice, but he could deal with that if it meant knowing that his friend was okay. When Seiji didn’t reply, Akira asked, “Did you actually need something?”

“No, it can wait,” he replied. “Sorry for waking you. Good night, buddy.”

He hung up before Akira could get another word in.

Akira had asked about the call when they met up a few days later. 

“You’re probably going to laugh at me,” Seiji stated, discomfort evident in his posture. He gripped his arm harder than usual. Akira frowned and waiting for Seiji to continue. “It’s weird. I keep having the same dream over and over again. Every night, you die, and I’m the one that kills you.”

“The dream was… particularly vivid that night. I panicked. That’s why I called you,” he continued, rubbing at his head sheepishly and wishing that he could disappear from Akira’s scrutinizing gaze. “Just. Don’t tell anyone, okay?”

“That’s all?” Akira asked, his face as neutral as ever. “Kakuya’s gone. You can stop worrying about anything happening to me. There’s no way in hell you’d be able to kill me, anyway.”

Seiji rolled his eyes, giving Akira a half-hearted shove. _How can I not?_ he had wanted to say. Instead he said, “Sorry for worrying about you, then. I’m sure it’ll stop soon enough.” 

Now, Seiji found himself in the same predicament. It was a little after one in the morning. His heart continued hammering away in his chest, a persistent reminder of his weakness. He shut his eyes and inhaled deeply. Seiji had a long night ahead of him, and he didn’t want to be alone. Against his better judgment, Seiji called Akira’s phone and waited anxiously for an answer. 

Each ring mocked him. After the third ring, Seiji began to lose hope. By the fifth, he was so frustrated that he wanted to throw his phone across the room. He hastily snapped his phone shut and tossed it onto his pillow.

Seiji knew that Akira was fine. He was strong and agile. He could defeat anyone who was unfortunate enough to be paired with him in the fighting ring. He cleansed numerous spirits and single-handedly defeated Kakuya, rescuing Ami from her terrible grasp. Akira was right; Seiji had no way of defeating him. At the same time, it meant he had no way of protecting Akira, either.

Maruhashi’s death shook Seiji to his core. It was an infuriating reminder that some things were entirely out of his control. If anything happened to Akira, he might just go mad.

Akira was a precious person to him. Seiji was used to having people kiss up to him, but Akira wasn’t like that at all. Seiji knew that he wasn’t a good person most of the time. His subordinates didn’t bat an eye, and his classmates feared him for it. Both groups revered him. Akira, on the other hand, was honest and upfront, and to Seiji it was a breath of fresh air.

Seiji wasn’t dense. He knew how to read people, and that included himself. The issue was that him and Akira already had a routine. Seiji didn’t want to mess up the comfortable balance that they had, so he started using the excuse of visiting Akira’s aunt Natsumi if it meant that he could spend more time with Akira without him becoming suspicious.

He was grateful for the time he got to spend with Akira. Seiji wouldn’t dare take it any farther. The heir to the Amanome family had an appearance to keep up, after all.

A sudden vibration startled Seiji from his thoughts. He picked up his cell phone, and upon seeing Akira’s name come up on the caller ID, he hurriedly answered it. “How’s it going, best friend?” he asked like clockwork.

“I should be asking you that,” Akira responds gruffly. “You’re calling late again. Did something happen?”

“I…” Seiji started, formulating how he was going to go about this. “I didn’t wake you again, did I?”

“No. I just got back.”

“Oh?” Seiji cooed. “Off on a secret midnight rendezvous?”

“Aunt Natsumi needed help closing up the bar,” Akira answered, ignoring Seiji’s teasing question.

“If only you told me. I would’ve been there in a heartbeat.” Seiji feigned disappointment. His grip on the phone tightened. He didn’t know why he suddenly felt nervous. “Hey, Akira,” Seiji grew serious, “Do you think I could stay at your place tonight?”

He braced himself for rejection. “You hate my place,” Akira stated.

“That’s not… _entirely_ true.” 

“Your dad getting on your ass again?”

“Not in particular,” he admitted, though his father had been particularly overbearing since he snuck out the last time. “I can’t sleep, and I’m so bored that I’m even starting to miss Hazuki’s occult magazines.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Nightmares again?” Seiji tensed at the question. Akira sounded like he was joking, but it was Seiji’s reality. His mouth parted slightly, but he couldn’t bring himself to answer. Akira took his silence as an admission. “Wait, seriously?”

“Look, if you’re just going to make fun of me over it, then forget I asked.” Seiji didn’t have the energy to be mad. Exhaustion weighed heavily on his mind and body. He just hoped that his best friend of all people wouldn’t treat him like a joke.

“I’m not making fun of you. It’s not like Kakuya didn’t fuck with my head too,” Akira argued. “Come over if you really want, but I’m not promising to stay awake with you.”

“Well, being awake with you in the room beats being awake and lonely. See ya soon.” Seiji rose from his bed and hastily left his room, not caring to bring anything else with him. Quickly disabling the security system, Seiji slid on the first pair of shoes he could find and made his way to Akira’s apartment with as much energy as he could muster.

Normally, Seiji walked through the streets with confidence. No one dared to approach him whether it be in broad daylight or the confines of night. However, his nervous state caused him to be hyper-aware of his surroundings. He avoided the main streets when possible, ducking through familiar alleyways and sticking only to his family’s territory. He breathed a sigh of relief when he finally reached the familiar underpass that he took to get to Akira’s apartment.

A few minutes later, Seiji approached Akira’s apartment complex. As he climbed up the stairs, warned himself not to do anything drastic. Even if Akira asked, Seiji wouldn’t tell him the details of the dream. He didn’t need to know anything more than what Seiji already told him. If it was enough to make Seiji nauseous just remembering it, he feared how Akira might take it.

Seiji decided to be polite and ring the buzzer (considering the last time he tried playing a prank on Akira, he got decked in the face). A few moments later, Akira opened the door, took one look at Seiji and said, “You look like shit.”

Seiji let out a breathy laugh. “I already knew that.” Mirrors quickly grew to be his least favorite inanimate object in the past month for many reasons. Akira moved aside to let him in. “Would you believe me if I told you that I haven’t slept for more than two hours in the past three days?”

“I doubt you’d leave the house wearing your slippers otherwise.” 

Just as Seiji was about to remove his shoes, he paused. A quick glance down to his feet confirmed it. “I’m a total mess, huh,” he admitted.

Akira offered no reply, observing Seiji with a cursory glance. Seiji avoided eye contact. His friend looked like he wanted to say more, but he must have decided against it.

Akira nodded his head in the direction of the clock on the wall. The time approached two. “I’m beat. There’s leftovers in the fridge if you’re hungry. Just keep it down.”

True to his words over the phone, Akira wasted no time lying down on his bed and rolling onto his side. Seiji remained standing in the foyer, unsure of what to do with himself. 

Padding his way over to Akira’s sleeping figure, Seiji grabbed a couple of magazines that Akira left sprawled out on his table. He sat on the floor at the base of the bed, his back against the mattress and his legs stretched out in front of him. He busied himself, mindlessly flipping through the pages of a martial arts magazine and staring at the pictures. Examining the fighters’ ratings, Seiji came to the conclusion that Akira defeat them all with ease.

The cover of the second magazine startled Seiji so badly that he threw it across the room. The fluttering of the pages filled the open space. Silently cursing, he risked a glance behind him. Akira didn’t shift. Seiji sighed, clutching at his chest to steady himself before he got up to retrieve the discarded magazine. It must’ve been one of Hazuki’s, showing up to mock him for his comment over the phone. An extremely ugly spirit graced the cover. Seiji glared at it, and his desire to crumple the whole thing was strong. He held back, though, and resorted to flipping it over so he didn’t have to feel the pair of eyes following his every move.

Seiji’s nerves, which had mostly calmed since arriving to Akira’s apartment, were racing again. He wrung his hands together. He watched the hands of the clock tick. Only twenty minutes had passed since he sat down. The brunet got up and started pacing, feeling utterly pathetic about his situation.

“Amanome...” Seiji froze. He turned, preparing to face Akira’s wrath, but nothing else came out of his mouth. Akira faced away from him toward the wall. His chest rose and fell with each breath. It wasn’t often that Seiji got to see Akira with his guard down. His face was relaxed, replacing his signature scowl. Seiji wondered whether he should dare take a picture or risk never seeing such a soft expression on his friend’s face again.

The young heir smiled to himself, the tension gradually leaving his body. Akira managed to sleep so soundly, even after everything he went through fighting Kakuya. Seiji had nothing to worry about. He was safest here in Akira’s presence. The only danger was Akira himself, and he didn’t think Akira was going to hurt him.

Seiji decided to throw away all of his qualms for one night. He approached the bed, tiptoeing to the best of his ability. He lowered himself slowly onto the side of the mattress, wincing as the springs squeaked. He paused for a moment, seeing whether or not Akira would react. Akira remained silent, and Seiji couldn’t see his expression from this angle.

Cautiously, Seiji lifted the corner of the blanket and swung his legs onto the bed, easing into the space that Akira so graciously left behind. He rolled onto his side, trying to leave as much room between his and Akira’s bodies, but there was only so much space for two teenagers, who both stood taller than 180cm, on a twin-size mattress. At least like this, he could while still savor in his friend’s warmth, though Seiji barely had any pillow for himself.

Seiji longed to inch himself closer and lay his body flush against Akira’s, but this was as far as he was willing to take it.

“I didn’t say that you could sleep on my bed,” Akira mumbled, but he sounded more tired than annoyed.

“Well, it’s a good thing that I didn’t ask.” Seiji shimmied closer, trying to claim more of the blanket for himself.

“Hah?” Akira shifted and glared at Seiji from over his shoulder.

Seiji smiled weakly. “Come on. Just for tonight. Please?”

Akira narrowed his eyes but decided against putting up a fight. “Yeah… whatever.” He turned away again and readjusted himself so that Seiji had a bit more room.

That little bit of effort meant more to Seiji than he could ever know. Gradually, Seiji’s eyes fluttered shut, and his body relaxed for the first time in days. Unlike earlier that night, he didn’t fear falling asleep.

_Every time I wake up, I feel your blood on my hands, only to open my eyes and see that there’s nothing there. But tomorrow I get to wake up and see you sleeping right beside me, and that’s all I could ever ask for._

“Thank you, best friend,” he whispered, the slightest of smiles gracing his face as his consciousness drifted away.

**Author's Note:**

> my thought process summed up: what if we made the delinquent and future yakuza boss cuddle? (and sorry if this seems ooc but i really wanted soft seijis)
> 
> follow me on twt @heiramanome ! i have no spirit hunter mutuals qq


End file.
